


When he came back

by carpoelow



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Other, VERY SLOW BURN IM SORRY, gay as shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:57:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpoelow/pseuds/carpoelow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Meta fell, Maine emerged.<br/>Life after Maine's healing.</p><p>OT3: Mainetuckington</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The appointments

Matthew, formally known as Agent Maine of Project Freelancer, was given an assignment, after the Meta was defeated. When Maine was dropped off the cliff, it knocked the Meta out of his head, luckily. It took three years in total for Maine- pardon, Matthew, to heal fully, mentally and physically. Falling from a cliff with a warthog strapped to your chest piece really does a number on one's physical health. 

By the time he was fully healed and to his physical state before the fall, the war had ended. The aliens were defeated, and all of the UNSC were taken apart, if they were not needed. That included Project Freelancer, despite managing to resurrect the fallen agents. Except Georgia, that guy is floating away in space, still. They included all of the simulation soldier projects, as well. There was no reason for them to keep thousands of separately colored soldiers fighting each other. 

The Reds and Blues all decided they got along too well to move far away from each other, so they bought out a new plot of land and built several houses on the property. Which were split between Grif and Simmons, Church and Caboose, Sarge and Donut, Doc and Lopez, and lastly Tucker and Washington. 

The other freelancers lived twenty minutes away, if they walked. When they miss the others, they call them on the CONN system, and arrange a time to meet up. They come together twice a month, and eat at a park they built between the houses. They converse, and make jokes. Then they usually go to Sarge's big basement, and watch movies together. 

Matthew had an assignment. He made it himself. Keep them safe. If that meant he had to patrol around the plot of land, and run to where the freelancers are, so be it. He had to keep his friends safe... No, that's not right. They were not his friends anymore. They were friends in Project Freelancer, on the MOI, but not here. 

He patrolled around Washington's house, mostly. He wanted to see if Washington was happy with Tucker. He seemed to be. When he would wake up from a nightmare, kicking and screaming, Tucker was there, saving him from himself.

Matthew only wished for it to be him, comforting his former partner. He was envious that Tucker got to touch Washington, like Maine used to be able to. Washingto- David, Matthew remembers, stopped touching him romantically when Matthew first got Sigma, and entirely when David had Epsilon implanted into his brain. 

Matthew misses David. Matthew missed North Dakota, South Dakota, CT, Carolina, surprisingly New York, and the others. He missed how when his hair got too long for his tribe's liking, Florida would help him trim it, and put it up with old wooden beads. He missed sparring with CT, then going to the eating area and laughing over the horrible pudding and fruit they gave all the soldiers atop that wretched ship. 

He misses his friends, he realized. He allowed himself to cry silently, sitting on the side of the road next to their property. He thinks he cried for an hour, whether there were actual tears after a point or just shaking with silent grief, he had cried over his lost friends.

When it turned to morning, Matthew stood up, and started making his way to his 'home'. He lives at the homeless shelter down the street, and worked down at the gym. He took showers there, and had enough money to buy dinner everyday. 

He tried to tell himself that what he was doing is healthy, looking over the boys, but as he started thinking about it, he is stressing himself out more than he is protecting them. 

Matthew went to the VA. He talked to a man who told him many things about veterans, and a disorder the soldiers on the MOI called the Covenant's brain scars. On Earth, the disorder is called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

Matthew didn't understand that one. The VA said that he had it, but something didn't go wrong with Mai-oh. A lot of things happened with Agent Maine. Sigma, the Meta, the fall, coming back, even getting shot in the throat. Thinking of all the things that have happened over the years to him, he cringes. The VA notices.

"Matthew, where did you serve?" His VA therapist asked him.

/I served in the UNSC Spartan-freelancer project./ Matthew wrote in a notebook he had bought.

His notebook had a white and orange cover, a black back cover. It had two and a half pages. 

"Matthew, come back to me. How long have you served? The specific years if you can remember." His therapist, Isaiah Gibson, asked.

/Seven years serving. Two wandering with heavy weapons, not myself. And two more healing after i fell./ Matthew wrote. 

"What do you mean not yourself, Matthew? Were you with someone else?" Dr. Gibson asked.

/I was with my partner, Agent Washington. I wasn't me. I was Meta./ Matthew wrote, wincing slightly as he scratched out the word 'Meta' on the paper. He handed the notebook over to his doctor, and waited while the doctor mulled over the meaning of his words. 

"What is Meta." His Doctor asks. He hands the notebook back to Matthew, showing no hesitation. 

/They were the creature that I became when i had the AI implanted into my brain. I beCAme viole T. violent. I became violent. It took over. I wasn't Agent Maine anymore. When i fell, it was knocked loose, and i took back over./ Maine wrote. He didn't mean to panic slightly. He scribbled over the messy words, and held the notebook over to the Doctor.

He waited. He waited while Dr. Gibson looked over his handwriting, then again. 

When Dr. Gibson looked up, he didn't have anything to say, except a simple question, in a dull voice which rather startled Matthew.

"Is that who you were? Agent Maine?"


	2. The attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker unknowingly meets the man who terrorized him many years ago.

Maine... that is who he is. Agent Maine, that's him. 

Agent Maine did not go back to see that VA therapist. He scared Maine. He made Maine understand that he is not Matthew. He is a freelancer. He. Is. ALIVE. HE. IS. MAINE. 

Maine scratched his head, feeling the long locks which were tugged when he caught them on a knot. He grimaced, and tried to work his hand through the knots. 

He gave up when it turned dark, and he only got half of his hair done. He made his way to the corner store, Walgreens, he thinks, and walks in. 

It might be because it was midnight, and he was exhausted, everyone walked as close to the aisle's shelves when passing him. He had dark bags under his eyes, and ratty hair, and deep, ragged scaring over his throat, painful looking lined scars across his face, cutting over his lips. 

People knew he was a war veteran, even though his dog tags were hidden under his black shirt that he got from the gym that he worked at. They knew. 

Maine grew quickly uneasy, and pulled tighter into himself. When he finally found the aisle with the combs and brushes, he was panicking. 

He pressed a hand to his throat, and felt his pulse, which was erratic, and another hand to his chest, feeling him struggling for breath. 

He felt a hand suddenly on his back, and he started. The hand rubbed wide, firm pressured, circles on his back. He allowed himself to be touched, and slowly he started to breath slower, and his heartbeat slowed to a firm, and consistent speed, typical for a spartan. 

When he calmed down enough to breathe, he heard an all too familiar voice. He turned to the person standing next to him, telling him to breathe, and recognized his arms, and the Elite language scarred into his chest, arms, and neck. He recognized the dark eyes, usually filled with joy and love, now filled with worry, and concern for the large freelancer in front of him.

Lavernius Tucker stood in front of Maine, the freelancer who went crazy, tried to kill his friends, Tucker's now-boyfriend, and steal an AI that they knew as their friend, Church, and didn't seem to recognize him. 

Maine sighed, deeply, and pulled his hand up enough to tap his chin, and pull away towards the teal soldier. 

"You're welcome? Hey, man are you okay? I mean, this is a weird Walgreens, and all, but people don't have panic attacks in the brush aisle." Tucker said, still holding his hand on Maine's back. 

Maine just shrugged, and signed to Tucker, (Do you know sign language?)

"Yeah. Where do you live? I'll give you a lift, if you need it." Tucker asked, helping Maine stand up straight, being caught slightly off guard by the size of him.

(The Homeless Shelter downtown.) Maine signed, searching Tucker's face, as he signed. He watched as a flash of concern made his face go blank, then a set face of determination flashed across and stuck.

"How about you stay with me for a little while. I can drive you places when I go to and from work, and you can stay in our spare bedroom!" Tucker exclaimed, excited and quick.

Maine threw his hands up to say no, shook his head, and took a few steps back. (I cant-)

"You wouldn't be intruding, we both know ASL, and I bet he would be glad to have you!" Tucker insisted, reaching forward to touch Maine's arm. 

(He won't want me.) Maine signed, a frown falling over his appearance. 

"Why? How would you know?" Tucker questioned. 

(I'm a homeless person, and-)

"It doesn't matter! David won't mind. He likes strays! We have three cats." Tucker said, wistfully. 

Maine knew this. Nya, Simra, and Kellen, if his memory serves. They all have different collars. Nya has a orange-gold collar, Kellen has a blue one, and Simra has a purple collar. 

(He wouldn't care, would he. Even if I had died.. never mind.) Maine signed, and scrunched his nose in disgust over mentioning his death.

"Don't say that! David might not know you, but if he knows that you want to die, he would feel the same as I! I don't want you to feel like you did the world an injustice by living!" Tucker argued, gripping Maine's bicep loosely.

Maine shrugged, then chuffed. Tucker looked inquisitively at Maine, and tilted his head. 

(If you say David will not mind, then I guess there's no harm.) Maine signed, knowing the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. I'm sorry.
> 
> Points to those who get the refernce of the cats' names


	3. The explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker and Maine have a chat

The house that Maine is a little too acquainted with loomed on the horizon. He swallowed deeply. 

David... didn't need to know that he was alive. For years, David had thought Maine was dead. When the others came back, they thought he was dead. 

Maine couldn't bear the idea that they had been glad that he had been allegedly killed over the cliff's edge. He had killed several of his friends, and had even thrown Carolina off of a cliff. They must've been glad to hear of Maine's death, or just the Meta's. Regardless, if the Meta died over the cliff, they probably overlooked the fact that Maine had died as well. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away. Tucker's hand rested on his shoulder, heavy and warm. 

"It's okay, dude. It's a huge deal for you, I get it. When I had an actual home since I came back from the UNSC project, I cried all night, and David had to comfort me. It was embarrassing as shit." Tucker tried to humor. 

Maine smiled, in a seemingly reassuring way. Tucker took it. 

When the car pulled up into the driveway, Maine could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. He fretted over the situation where David would see Maine. 

The mere thought of how David would react made Maine feel ill. Tucker exiting the car, made Maine realize time was still moving, and he felt, once more that he was getting left behind.

He opened the car door with a shaky hand, and left the car with shaky everything. 

"It doesn't look like Wash is here yet, so we will just have to wait inside for him to come home." Tucker said, standing behind Maine's door, prepared to close the door once Maine was out from behind it. 

(Okay.) Maine frowned, walking with Tucker o the front of the house. 

He trailed a couple of feet behind Tucker, never to wary to walk more than an arms length from the young man. Tucker seemed to know how Maine felt, and never sped up in haste to get inside. 

Maine reached forward when Tucker entered the house's eve. Tucker turned when Maine's touch lightly ghosted over his bicep. 

"Yeah, man?" Tucker questioned, standing where Maine could see directly past him, and into the house.

(I need to say something. It needs to be said before I enter your house.) Maine signed slowly, allowing Tucker time to comprehend. 

"Sure. Let's sit down then." Tucker said, leading Maine to the porch chairs on the left of the front stoop.

Maine sat on the chair furthest from the door, which gave Tucker a suitable exit, in the event that Tucker panicked, which Maine greatly hoped he wouldn't. 

Tucker slumped down in the chair beside Maine, turning his whole body to look at the ex-Meta.

"What's up, man? You're not some kind of psycho, are ya?" Tucker joked, a unsure smile on his face. 

(Tucker... When you were in the UNSC, you met a freelancer named David, and his psycho possessed partner hell-bent on getting your friend, who was a floating orb of anger and bad decisions.) Maine signed. He mentally started preparing for the worst.

"Wait... how do you-" Tucker stared at Maine. He had the look on his face that made Maine's insides feel like they're folding in on themselves. 

He frowned, and mulled over how he was going to convey the message. He thought over how he has healed over the years, and how he had learned to do mundane tasks, like having social relations with others. He thought over the amount of coaching that he subjected himself to, and he got an idea. 

"T-Tucker. I was... the Meta."


	4. The conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker and Maine have a long needed conversation

"Meta...?" Tucker whispered, taken aback. "You... you were pulled off the clif- how are you alive?! Wait. Don't answer that. I don't want to know." 

(You're rambling.) Maine signed. 

"YEAH." Tucker yelled suddenly, causing Maine to jump in his seat. Maine pulled back, honestly expecting Tucker to hit Maine with the same chair that Tucker is sitting on. 

Tucker noticed. Tucker saw how Maine jumped, and subtly prepared to be hit with something.

"I'm not going to hit you, Met- that's not your name is it..." Tucker asked, forcing himself to lean back in his chair. 

(I want to be called what you want. If it is Meta, it is Meta.) Maine explained.

"What was your birth name?" Tucker questioned. 

(Matthew. My freelancer name was Maine.) Maine fidgeted in his seat, Tucker's stare burning a hole in Maine's defenses.

"Which do you respond to more?" Tucker asked, his dark eyes narrowing in skepticism.

(Maine.)

"Then Maine it is. Get inside my house, you have to explain every little detail to me. That includes your years as a freelancer." Tucker ordered, standing briskly to his feet. 

So Maine followed. They went to the living room, Tucker shoved a cup of orange juice in Maine's hand, and fell into the seat opposite of Maine with an unopened bottle of beer in his. 

"Okay, Maine. Start from the beginning. Before the Meta." Tucker asked, taking a sip of the bitter liquid. 

(When we were still in Project Freelancer, we were given a mission to just get something called a sarcophagus. Carolina, York, and I got into a highway battle with some soldiers after a suitcase, and I got shot six times in the throat.)

"Yeah, I remember that. Then Carolina gave you her AI, which was the Sigma one, right?" Tucker asked, tilting his head. Maine nodded, with Tucker mirroring the movement in understanding. 

(I got violent after I healed. I destroyed a insurrectionist soldier, the one who shot me in the throat, just because Sigma told me to. Then I got on a mission to get all of the AI's to make a alpha AI, and I killed some people to get what I wanted. Washington followed me to get to Epsilon, and you know how it goes from there. Then I wake up at the bottom of the cliff. I heal. Then I found you guys, decided I was going to protect you, and all the others, with my life.) Maine waited and then continued once Tucker nodded again. (I went to a VA therapist, he freaked me out, then you found me.) 

Tucker took a deep breath, and held it for seven seconds, then let it out in a huge whoosh of air. 

"Okay... I get it. I have a few questions. Do you mind?" Tucker inquired. 

(Not at all. Go ahead.) Maine signed, leaning forward on his seat, eager to get on Tucker's good side. 

"Did you love David?"


	5. the one no one hoped for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maine doesnt get to answer. I wonder why.

Maine couldn't answer before they heard a loud gasp from the living room door. 

Maine spun around, preparing to protect Tucker, but froze. 

At the door, clutching a bag of groceries in his left hand, stood Washington. 

Maine took his his tight posture, his white knuckles, his expression, and tried to tell how he was going to react to seeing someone who tried to kill him. 

Lacking any expression on his face, Washington looked almost peaceful, but Maine knew better.

However, Maine didn't expect the expensive blue vase to be thrown. He covered his face with his arm, and upon hearing Tucker yell, cowered lower.

The vase shattered against Maine's fleshy forearm, and only then did Maine fully understand that Washington was aiming purposefully at his face. He had his eyes shut tight, wary of Washington's next move, but at the same time chastising himself for thinking that Wash would react any other way.

"What the FUCK, Wash!?" Tucker practically screamed, throwing himself in front of Maine. 

"Tucker, do you realize who this IS?" Wash yelled back, bracing himself for a battle. 

"This is Agent Maine, I know! Now, apologize for hitting him with the vase! Didn't you love him?" Tucker cried out, astounded.

"No! Not since he became a monster!" Washington yelled, over annunciating the ''monster'' part of his speech. 

Maine knew the comment was aimed at Maine. It stung to know that Washington had loved him once, and gave it up immediately, instead of trying to keep his love as long as possible, like Maine would do for him. Washington knew exactly when he stopped loving Maine, but Maine cannot fathom not loving Washington, despite all they had gone through.

Tucker huffed. Just a short breath of air, putting more pressure into the already uncomfortable situation. 

"David... You should apologize. That was fucked up." Tucker practically growled. "He's conscious. Like we talked about."

"Hypothetical situations are hypothetical for a reason. They are never supposed to happen. That's why its HYPOTHETICAL." Wash hissed. 

"Why would the situation change? You said-"

"I changed my mind, Lavernius. Minds can do that. Get him out of my house." Washington interrupted, his nose crinkling in anger, or disgust. Maine couldn't be sure. 

"YOUR house. YOUR HOUSE! HA! When did it stop being OUR house. Is it because I think Maine is human? Is it because I think you should show compassion for your former partner. The others are alive!" Tucker yelled, his lips curling in distress, making him grimace. 

Maine just about jumped out of his skin when Washington slammed his hand down on the table, silencing anything Tucker was going to say. 

"Don't do this. If you side with him, you should leave with him. He needs to leave, but you don't have to." Wash pleaded, his lips in a tight line. 

"Okay... Maine. Let's go." Tucker returned, spinning around to Maine. He grabbed Maine's wrist, and lead him towards the door. 

The last thing Maine heard leaving that house was a nearly silent "Oh, fuck.", but Tucker either heard it and ignored it, or didn't hear the plea his boyfriend murmured, because he kept pulling Maine out.


	6. The necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to run away from our problems, and drink some soda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I plan on being better at this whole writing a story thing. Soooo anyway,,,,,,, here's some loser boys

As Tucker stormed out of the house, Maine's hand clutched in his, Maine could only guess what was about to happen. As Tucker pushed Maine to the other side of Tucker's car, David broke out of the house, intent on confrontation. Tucker gave Maine a look, that, honestly, reminded him so much of Carolina that he shied away. The teal simulation soldier shot his gaze quickly at the car, and Maine took the hint, walked to the door, and got into the passenger side. 

Maine watched as Tucker and David argued outside the car, just barely out of each other's personal spaces. Tucker stood, arms held too tight by his sides, obviously trying not to flail his hands around, in his anger. While David held his hands out, towards Tucker. Maine heard only muffled voices, and he felt a little uncomfortable trying to listen in. 

Eventually, Tucker told David to go inside, and motioned at the car, and made a few quiet statements, that obviously made David look rather sheepish. David started to walk back to the house, and turned and said something to Tucker that Maine looked confused at. It took him a moment to realize that David said 'I love you'. 

When they eventually started to pull out of their driveway, Maine was picking at his hands, nervously. Tucker glanced at his hands, and made a small tsk noise. Maine flinched at the noise, and quickly moved his hands to grasp his thighs. Tucker sighed, and reached across the console and tapped Maine's hand.

"I didn't mean any ill intent, Maine. I just didn't want you to pick apart your hands. Be comfortable?" Tucker said, a question inlaid in his voice. Maine huffed out a breath, and looked over at Tucker, trying to convey the desperation he has to be alert, at all times. 

He motioned to a cafe that they were about to pass, and Tucker slowed down to go into the parking lot." He pulled into the parking spot closest to the cafe, and pulled his emergency brake. 

Maine softly puffed a breath out of his lips. Tucker looked at Maine, and said "This is an old diner. David and I go here often. Too much noise for prying ears. Would you like to go inside?" 

A moment went by, where neither men moved. Then Maine nodded, and unbuckled himself from the car's belt. Tucker not far behind. When the men entered the cafe, a small measly waitress grabbed their silverware, and two menus, for the soldiers, and motioned for them to follow her, to their seat. She jutted a hip out, pencil and pad ready, in her hands, and looked at the two. 

"What are you guys interested in drinking? We have coke products, lemonade, coffee, and tea." The waitress asked, popping the gum in her mouth. 

"I will have a glass of lemonade please. And you want..." Tucker looked at Maine, and made a motion with his hand. Maine signed 'Coke' to Tucker, "a coke," Tucker said, watching the girl scribble down their order, and walk away. 

Tucker looked at Maine, and stared for a few moments. It didn't appear that Maine saw him staring, so he took as much time as he wanted. He looked at how Maine's hair was dense, and hung limply behind his head, making the man look more like his Native American heritage with how it was tied back in a loose ponytail. Tucker looked at the scars all over Maine's face, and neck, and wondered how many more there are. Tucker looked at Maine's eyes, and nearly jumped a foot in the air, when he realized he was being watched. Their eyes met, and it startled Tucker.

Maine shifted, uncomfortably almost, and adverts his eyes, before clearing his throat. He straightened the fork and spoon out on the right side of the plate, before he looked at Tucker. He swallowed thickly, nervous, and stated, bluntly. "There is something wrong with me. The man told me it was PTSD." 

"PTSD?" Tucker repeated. "Is that all he could give you? You could grab a handful of soldiers, and you would grab at least three who would be diagnosed as having PTSD. Did he tell you anything else?" Tucker asked, leaning forward slightly. 

"He scared me. He spoke too much about me." Maine ground out, narrowing his eyes as memories of the man cycled through his brain, everything the man said sounding a little took close to how Maine viewed himself, or the world around him. He believed him to have too much power. 

"Maine, you do know that is his job, right?" Tucker asked, looking at Maine, with something akin to amusement on his face. Maine growled deep in his chest, and snapped his eyes away from Tucker, offended to be talked to like a child who didn't know the sun was a star. Tucker sensed he fucked up somewhere, and tried to backpedal.

"Maine, wait... I, uh.. Would you like to try a couple other psychiatrists, to see if any of them are better than the man?" Tucker hurried to change the subject. Maine looked over at Tucker, and shook his head. 

"I am not comfortable with people. At all." Maine stated, looking Tucker in the eyes. "I feel like everyone knows what kind of person I was. What kind of monster-" Maine cut himself off, clenching his jaw. "It feels like everyone knows what I have done. Like they know who I've been. I don't like it."

Tucker blinked a couple of times at Maine, then opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find some words, but finding none. After a moment's consideration, Tucker asks Maine, "How were you planning on telling us you were here?" 

Maine stopped for a second. He hadn't really thought about how they found out. He just always imagined that his old friends would turn on him, for a change. He looked at Tucker, and gave a short shrug. Tucker sighed, placing his hands on his forehead, his head bowed to the table. If Maine didn't know any better, he'd imagine Tucker was praying. 

Tucker raised his head, and said, "Now that Wash knows, likely so does everyone else. I don't want any visitors tonight, so you and I are going to go and stay the night in the hotel down the street." Maine's eyes widened, and he shook his head. 

"You should go home to David. Not be staying out all night at some hotel with the guy who killed a few of my friends. The freelancers are going to be pissed with me, for living, already and I don't want them angry with you." Maine tried to convince Tucker. Tucker chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

"They are always angry at something with us, and I have never been the center of attention yet, so I feel like it's a bonus for us. Plus, Wash will stand up for my honor, and will end up siding with us, soon enough, anyway." Maine huffed in disbelief, and Tucker continued, "What? You don't think Wash will stand up for his friend who he thought he lost years ago, and his boyfriend? Wash is a sap. He loves those rom-com movies where the best friend and boyfriend all have good endings, and they all stick together. He's a dweeb, so he wouldn't say no to the opportunity of being in a drama fest." 

Maine chuckled softly at Tucker's jokes about David. The teal soldier lit up when Maine laughed at his jokes. They backed off from the conversation for a few moments, to order their food, and drink some of their delivered beverages. 

"So, anyway, Maine... You never answered me when I asked you if you loved David." Tucker said, sharply, but not unkindly. 

Maine's eyes shot up, from stirring around the ice in his cola, to Tucker's unwavering gaze. 

"Yes," Maine said, and desperately held back his urge to say, 'and I think I am falling in love with you, too.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still love the red vs blue pals. I've just been in love with everything rooster teeth recently. I decided I'm in love with Mica. So, that's going pretty great

**Author's Note:**

> There will be angst, im sorry.


End file.
